I Could Easily Kill You
by little-miss-snape123
Summary: Lucius's distorted and confused thoughts on Hermione, reviews welcome, vaguely based on a fallout boy song lyric challenge. the only thing you'll get is this curse on your lips I hope they taste of me forever
1. Chapter 1

**I Could Watch You Die**

**Lucius/Hermione pairing.**

**His feelings on her, reviews please, criticism also welcomed.**

**Did I make Lucius OOC?**

I could happily watch her burn.

Show her the world isn't easy, hear her scream for mercy, she'd know her place in the world if she had to beg me at my feet. See the flames envelope her until she is nothing more than ash on my floor. I could easily watch the flames lick at her mudblood body, watch them close in around her.

But I stop every time. Each time I see her hair.

Like battling strands of nylon, in such a dull shade of brown it's bordering on not even being classed as a colour, so plain, I know she despises it. It begins to shrivel under the flames and I wonder if I want to see that hair disappear, to crumple in to non existence. I stop. She hasn't suffered enough to be allowed to escape yet, not when the pain of others would carry on. Her hair can just be another factor to torment her existence.

I hold my wand to her throat, I could easily curse her.

I could watch her crumple beneath my wand with such pleasure, fall to the ground in a lifeless slump, my eye catches sight of a vein in her throat, pumping her dirty blood round her filthy body, a mutation like her doesn't deserve magic. It's sickening, I push my wand closer in to her neck and she cries out, a helpless noise that catches me offguard. Her voice, a voice that conveys her idiotic beliefs and stubborn ideals. A voice I'm forced to hear everyday, how would it be to have that silenced? Back to the eloquent drawls of pureblood society, her accent has a quirk, a tone I just can't figure out, to kill her would be to never know. If she continued to voice her distorted views then she deserved to continue to suffer for them.

Bella would like to kill her, how simple to pass her on and have Bella finish her off.

This girl that has so quickly become the bane of my existence. Something that refuses to die.

An insect, that has forced me to live in the dirt beside her.

And how beautiful insects are when you are alongside them.

I will not allow her to crush the butterfly I keep in my jar.

I will complete my task, no one else. The mudblood was given to me. Not Bella.

I could easily drown her.

I'm obligated to watch her whilst she bathes, to ensure she does not commit suicide. Release at her own hands is not allowed, I watch her and it would be so easy to push her under and watch her hair swirl above her head, I've done it before, in a fit of revulsion at her I've pushed her under, her hair covered her face in clouds, shielding her eyes from my gaze.

Some say the eyes are the windows to the soul and watching Hermione's eyes are like seeing a battle between rages of fire and dramatic swirls of oceans, to watch her eyes is to stand on the precipice of oblivion and watch the world unfold.

I pulled her above the water, pressing the hair away from her face, looking in to her eyes and making sure the battles weren't over in there yet. I couldn't go on knowing I'd ended those battles.

I see her sleeping, I could use my pillow to smother her, she is at complete surrender to me in this state, she is sleeping willingly in my company after everything I've done to her.

I could kill her. I should kill her.

But I feel my belief slipping, the knowledge I had that she is below me is crumbling, she is reversing everything and I hate her for it. I loathe her for how she's made me. I am nothing without my beliefs, just an insect like her, and that is not what I want to think, that cannot be all I am, and she cannot be so much. The confusion suffocates me, and I despise myself for it, ending things for myself instead of her seem like a reasonable path of action, my life becomes so conflicted and I'm suffocating and before I can drown she resuscitates me, she drags me back up and keeps me alive. She hates me, my suffering can't end whilst hers goes on, our suffering will be equal. She will make us equal because it's a victory for the prisoner to make her captor break down, to make her captor pity her. I'm repulsed at myself for allowing her to win but I can't live without her. She is mine now and I will never let her escape.

I don't want to. She is mine.

She told me once she wished her tears could stain me so I would never forget the pain I've caused her, she demanded some form of repentance for all I'd done. As if I could ever forget her.

The only apology she got is the curse from my lips, I hope they taste of me forever.

**Reviewreviewreview PLEASE**


	2. Chapter 2

**Someone suggested writing it from Narcissa's point of view, I liked that idea so err I did,**

**thanks for the reviews. More please? :))**

Affairs aren't anything surprising in pureblood marriages, in our society it's almost an oddity if a married man does not have an affair. It is expected, there are some unwritten rules though;

The woman must be discreet, even if everyone is aware of the affair.

She must be of a similar social standing, for instance one would never go off with a **Weasley**, that would just be undue humiliation to your spouse.

You must not be in love with the person, you may only desire them, anything more is no longer a mere fling, it is an emotional affair.

The spouse must not acknowledge these indiscretions, unless the rules have been breached.

One rule that goes with out saying is that their blood must be **pure**. Sleeping with a mudblood, whether you're single or taken is not allowed, any moral pureblood wouldn't want to touch one anyway. Not only might you create a hybrid child, but.. It's just repulsive.

I remember meeting Lucius in school, he was a year above me, head boy, quidditch captain and he could have any girl he wanted, he wasn't just handsome... He was regal, and something about him screamed seduction. He wouldn't just have you, he would seduce you. Reduce you to a pool of quivering nerves then leave you.

I'd heard the stories, everyone knew them. He would enjoy the chase and then drop you. So many times he tried to get me but I wouldn't relent, I didn't want seduction, I wanted him. All of him, a conversation that didn't revolve around him seducing me, a gesture without a motive.

I lost my virginity to him at the end of the year, I was drunk and he took advantage, afterwards I felt used, I didn't even want to see him, but he came to my room, I don't think I've ever been more angry, I shouted at him for so long and he just let me, the noble Malfoy just let me shout and rage at him and at the end of it he just laughed and said

'You idiot, I'm in love with you!'

We'd been together ever since.

It was a summer's night when the mudblood first came, I remember sitting by the window waiting, the hazy sunshine was not a fitting weather type for a prisoner's arrival, if all went well they'd have captured the girl on her way to King's Cross station and she'd be being bought here.

She was on her way to start her seventh year of school, just a few weeks older than when I'd got together with Lucius, I was so carefree... This girl would have the weight of the world on her shoulders, the girl would never finish school.

I could hardly bear that her life would end in my home.  
I saw dull movement, on the edge of our grounds, four figures, my breath drew in as I realised they'd got the girl, she had a hood over head and was being pushed forward. My heart went out to her, this was needless cruelty, she was no more than a child, probably not even 17 yet.  
They burst through in to the house, I watched my husband push her violently past the door, onwards to the cellar, I knew the things he was required to do as a servant of the Dark Lord, I'd just never had it bought to my house, never had it live in my cellar.

The arguments started soon after, every time he walked down to the cellar I knew he'd be hurting her, questioning her, frightening her. I couldn't stand it, so we argued.

I remember one time, for a week or so I'd noticed that his arguments had become contradictory, nothing he said made sense any more.

'She's so painfully nondescript, I mean her fucking hair is like nylon, wild strands of nylon'

I think that was the last straw, I'd heard his rants on her for too long, none of them rung true.

'Nondescript means... having nothing distinctive about them'

'She's so plain there is nothing..'

'I've just heard you describe several of her attributes, her hair. Her blood, the freckles on her face. You clearly find her quite describable' I interrupted, looking up at him, he was shocked at my interruption.

'Fine, she's so incredibly plain, her features are so...'

'Poetic, I think they're poetic' I broke in again, I mainly wanted to aggravate him.

'Poetic?' He said in disgust. 'You've never even seen her'

'Wild strands of nylon, filthy blood coursing her veins, that smattering of freckles splashed across her nose. She sounds positively poetic from your descriptions of her'

'She has NOTHING poetic about her. She is, nothing'

'Do you pity her?'

'Now you're just being ridiculous Narcissa'

'By all accounts she's intelligent and engaging.. Just the wrong blood type for our position in society'

'Are you jealous of the girl?'

'Of being tortured? Of being the object of obsession by a crazed death eater'

'OBSESSION'

'She is all you ever talk about Lucius! All I ever hear about, you watch her whilst she bathes! You, hurt her, and she is just a child' The tears began to leak from my eyes now, I was no longer just aggravating him, I wasn't entirely sure what I **was** doing, or what exactly I was trying to achieve.

'She. Is. Not. A. Child'

I sat momentarily in shock, the hatred was ground in to his features as he spat that out at me.

'I would never be obsessed with such a filthy little creature. I am FORCED to watch her, she deserves the pain I give her, for you to suggest otherwise'

'Is disgusting, is horrific, I know' I finished for him 'Is it so horrific to pity the poor child?'

'SHE'S NOT A CHILD' Lucius pushed his glass off the table and stood up, walking out of the room.

'Off to see her? Punish her for what I've said' I shouted, he paused at the door, probably debating whether to reply, he decided against and carried on walking, all too soon I heard the familiar footsteps down to the cellar.

I saw them together once, curiosity got the better of me, he had her cleaning like the house elves, he was watching her. I hadn't seen her since her 4th year, Lucius was right. She was not a child, not anymore.

I stood out of view, just watching them from the sidelines, he poured himself a glass of firewhiskey and continued to watch her, he had chosen to sit so close to her as she scrubbed the skirting boards, she didn't even flinch away as he sat less than a hair width away from her. I watched as he reached a hand down and placed it in her hair, I watched his eyes close as he ran his fingers through her hair, his face relaxed in a sort of blissful expression and the girl still paid no attention, a part of my mind wondered how often he was this intimate with her, he must have acted like this before for her to pay no attention to these types of actions, and surely she is not naïve enough to think these are innocent actions.

It became too intimate for me to watch, he'd crawled on to the floor beside her and forced her to look at him, I could see the battles going on inside of him, I loosely wondered whether she could see them too. Whether she understood my husband better than I did, whether she knew how much she'd destroyed him to make him sit beside her like this.  
The jealousy burned inside of me then, what she'd managed to accomplish far outshone what I had. I had tamed him, but she had broken him. Dismantled every belief he had, crumbled the walls of defence he had against people like her and she was left with just... Him.

She probably hadn't even tried.

'I'm sorry' I heard the mudblood whisper, I turned my head round to watch them once again.

'I forgive you' He replied, stroking her face, he was rubbing his thumbs roughly over her cheek, as if asserting that she was real, that she was human. She reached over to him but before she touched his face she stopped, looking at him for permission. He inclined his head and she tentatively placed her hand on his face, a nervous smile briefly graced her harrowed features. Something told me this was the first time he'd allowed her to touch him, he arched in to her hand, he reached for her other hand and placed it on his neck, his eyes closed as he sat in the dirt alongside her.

I walked away, leaving them. That may seem like an odd thing for a wife to do but I am a good wife. I am a good pureblood, I do not shout, or rant. My husband will return to me some day. The girl will die.

Or so I can only hope.


End file.
